


That Bonnie Road

by marinarusalka



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Cap_Ironman Reverse Bang Challenge, Fae & Fairies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinarusalka/pseuds/marinarusalka
Summary: Ever since Queen Titania closed the way to Faerie in 1945, Earth has been running out of magic.  Tony Stark, the world's most powerful technomancer, has been trying to reopen the way for years, with no success.  Until he's kidnapped and forced to make one last desperate attempt -- which brings entirely unexpected results.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 cap_ironman RBB. Art will be linked as soon as it's posted.
> 
> Huge thanks to romanticalgirl for the beta.

_While it is generally accepted among historians that Howard Stark was the world's first technomancer, there is disagreement as to when he assumed that mantle. Some say that Captain America's shield, being the first object of Earth origin to be permanently infused with magical properties, represents the first example of technomancy. Others argue that the shield is not a mechanical or electrical device and therefore doesn't qualify as an example. The latter group cites the creation of the ST-100 airplane in 1948 as the birth of technomancy. There is one thing both groups do agree on: while Howard Stark may have created the practice of uniting technology and magic, it was his son who perfected it._  
**\-- Everhart, C. (1992) The Starks: Two Generations of Magic and Mayhem. New York: St. Martin's Press.**

**Chapter 1**

There were protesters outside the lab again. Tony could see them out the window, gathered on the far side of the security wards that surrounded the Stark Industries Long Island plant, waving their signs at the unimpressed security guards. The signs provided the gist of their grievances, even if the soundproof walls and windows kept Tony from hearing their voices.

KEEP MAGIC PURE!

TECHNOMANCY IS AN ABOMINATION!

SAVE OUR AETHER!

BRING BACK THE MAGIC!

Tony wondered how many of the protesters had SI's magichips in their phones, how many had driven to the protest in cars whose patented wards made them nearly crash-proof. Magically-enhanced technology had become so ubiquitous over the past few decades that most people didn't even notice when they were using it. Still, the Purist wingnuts were convinced they could put the genie back in the bottle. The protests had been going on regularly since the days when Tony's father still ran the company. Most of the employees had learned to ignore them, and so had Tony himself except on days like this. Days when his research had hit yet another dead end and the slogans outside began to sound like a personal challenge.

_Bring back the magic. Sure. Easy as pie._ Tony glared at the useless jumble of spell blueprints spread out on the worktable in front of him. What do you think I've been trying to do all these years? Picking up the most recent blueprint, he turned around to face the aether coil in the center of the lab.

It looked incongruous, a fifteen-foot mithril spiral -- the largest reservoir of the Faerie metal left on Earth -- nestled in an artificial fairy ring of toadstools and miniaturized rowan trees, surrounded by the gleaming clutter of a top-of-the line electronics lab. Still, Howard Stark had found it to be the best method of containing the aether for his experiments and Tony, despite years of experimenting with Earth metals, hadn't discovered anything better. 

If he focused, Tony could see the coil glowing, a storehouse of magic that enhanced Stark Industries' tech. When it was first build, it had taken only a few minutes to recharge the entire massive device from the ambient aether in the atmosphere. Now it took several days. With no connection to Faerie to replenish it, the aether was fading from the world. Technomancy, despite the Purists' claims, served to slow the process, but it wasn't enough. By Tony's best estimate, humanity had somewhere between twelve to fifteen years left before its world ran out of magic.

_And then what?_ Tony ran his hand over his chest, where a much smaller version of the coil was glowing faintly through his shirt. _I don't want to die before I'm forty…_ The SI medical research division had spent nearly twenty years searching for a non-magical way to keep Tony's heart beating properly, with no success. Tony had little hope of a breakthrough in the near future.

Well, he wasn't going to help himself or the world by standing around and brooding. Tony glanced down at blueprint in his hand. Perhaps if he added another set of strengthening spells at the corners and a protective ward to contain the backlash…

The central component of the spell was so familiar to Tony by now, he didn't even need the traditional hand gestures to cast it. All he had to do was shape the pattern with his mind and the aether flowed into it like water into a well-worn channel. The problem was, this particular channel inevitably hit a dam. And no matter how hard Tony tried to steer the spell around it, or over it, or through it, eventually the spell's pent-up energy would release and then--

The new ward absorbed some of the backlash this time, but what got through was still enough to knock him backwards. Tony swore as he smacked into the workbench behind him and slid to the floor in a cascade of blueprints. Oh yeah, that was going to leave a mark. Again.

"Mr. Stark?" said a tentative voice from the door, followed by a much more emphatic "Oh my God, Tony, are you all right?"

"Ugh." Tony's vision was blurred and full of spots. He blinked a few times to clear it, and found himself looking up at a pale, worried face framed by copper-colored hair. "Hi, Pepper. Don't look at me like that, I’m perfectly fine."

"You are not fine." Pepper squatted next to him and slid one arm under his shoulders to help him sit up. Tony bit off a groan as the movement pulled at the brand-new bruise on his back. "You're bleeding."

"Am not!" Tony protested. 

Pepper produced a tissue from her handbag, swiped it against his chin, and held it up to show him the red blotch.

"Okay, maybe I’m bleeding a little." He must've bitten his lip when he fell. "I’m still fine. Help me up, will you?"

"You promised," Pepper said sternly as she took hold of Tony's arm and helped him lurch to his feet. "You said you wouldn't keep trying that spell anymore."

"And I didn't! This was a totally different spell. That also didn't work." Okay, so maybe it was the same spell with a few frills added on -- that was enough to count as totally different, right?"

"Don't split hairs with me, Tony." Pepper glared at him. "You're going to get yourself killed one of these days, and then I'll be out of a job. Don't do that to me."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I’m not going to kill myself with a gate spell, Pep. That's the most basic spell there is. Little children used to do it, back in the day."

"We're not living back in the day," Pepper said softly. "You can't keep doing this, Tony. What if you succeed? It could be more dangerous than if you failed."

She had a point there, Tony had to admit. Queen Titania had sealed the border between Earth and Faerie for a reason. She was unlikely to be pleased at some clever human barging in uninvited.

Tony sighed and pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. His lip was still bleeding sluggishly, but the cut was small and would probably close up on its own in a few minutes. A cut lip was the least of Tony's problems. "I can't afford to quit, Pepper. You know why."

"I know." Pepper handed him another tissue. "But you can't afford to keel over from exhaustion, either. Now I'm going home for dinner, and so should you. Get some food. Get some sleep. Think of something else to try."

"I will," Tony promised, and hoped he sounded convincing. Pepper didn't look very convinced, but she only fussed over him for another minute or so before gathering her things and walking out. It was seven o'clock, Tony realized, and he'd been at the plant since six in the morning. Maybe he should go home after all. He'd already kept Pepper way past quitting time, and now he was keeping Happy, too. Well, he would go soon. Right after he took another look at these blueprints. There had to be a better way to contain the backlash than what he'd been doing, to bleed off the excess energy slowly instead of releasing it all at once…"

It was all too easy to get all caught up in blueprints and spell theory again. By the time Tony came up for air, it was nearly eleven, the protesters outside were gone, and the building was eerily silent. Tony might've felt bad about the delay, but he had five new spell modifications to try. _Tomorrow. I'll try them tomorrow._ Tempting as it was to keep on going right there, Happy Hogan deserved a decent night's sleep once in a while. Tony took a few minutes to tidy up his workspace, turned out the lights and left.

He was half-way across the empty parking lot before he realized something was off. Happy wasn't standing outside the car the way he normally was when Tony approached. Tony stopped and slowly looked around.

Nothing. No sign of Happy. No other cars in the lot. The wards around the grounds were still in place. Tony moved forward again, slowly. Was he being paranoid? Maybe Happy just got tired of waiting and decided to sit in the car… But he'd get out once he saw Tony coming, Happy was a stickler for protocol that way. Did he fall asleep?

Tony stopped again. The wards were in place, yes, but the guard booth at the gate was empty, though the light was still on inside. That was wrong. There was always a guard, and he had a passkey that let visitors past the wards. If someone overpowered him and took the key…

The driver's side door swung open and Happy got out. Tony started to relax, then tensed again when the back door opened too, and a figure in dark clothes unfolded itself from inside. The figure stepped forward, one hand raised toward Happy's head, and Tony saw the metallic glint of a gun barrel.

"Don't move," a female voice called out.

Tony didn't move, but he did summon a small amount of aether into each hand and held it loosely cupped in his fingers, waiting for the right moment. The gun was a problem, but if he could distract the woman for a bit, take her attention away from Happy, maybe he could--

"I'm sorry, boss," Happy said in a tense voice. "They got the drop on me."

"It's all right," Tony told him, then pitched his voice louder to address the woman. "What do you want?"

"Don't move," she repeated.

Tony hadn't seen anyone else as he'd crossed the parking lot, but there were footsteps behind him now. He could think of at least a dozen spells he might cast backwards at whoever was sneaking up behind him, but the woman still had the gun pointed at Happy, and Tony couldn't risk it, not at this range. How many of these assholes were there? If he took out the gunwoman first, would he have time to--

A hand on his shoulder. A faint sense of movement behind him. A sudden suffocating sensation, as if the aether in the air had turned solid and stuck in his throat when he breathed in.

Then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

_Before Queen Titania closed the borders in 1945, aether flowed freely from Faerie -- where it spontaneously generated in the atmosphere by means still unknown to human science -- to Earth, where human sorcerers could afford to use this infinite resource with no concern for the cleanliness and efficiency of their spells. After the border closing, however, aether instantly became a finite resource, though neither conservationists nor sorcerers began to seriously consider the issue for several more years (Devadas et al., 1957). In this paper we present the results of several numerical simulations which suggest that, unless significant conservation steps are taken, the world's supply of aether will be exhausted between 2010 and 2015. These results are consistent with the observational estimates of Stark [1989]._   
**\-- Storm, S. and Richards, R. (1993) Peak Aether: a Modeling Study. Nature, 179, 25-37.**

**Chapter 2**

Tony woke to a throbbing ache in his temples and a deeper, more constant pain in his back. He was lying on his side, with his arms twisted awkwardly behind him. His mouth tasted as if he'd been eating dirt, and his hands were numb. Tony groaned softly, then quickly bit back the sound as memories of what had brought him to this state came flooding back.

Kidnapped. He'd been kidnapped, and whoever had taken him had at least one sorcerer among them. Whatever spell they'd used to knock him out, it had worked remarkably fast; and the fact that they'd been able to sneak up on him in the middle of an empty parking lot suggested a well-made invisibility spell. He'd have to put in extra wards against those in the future, maybe make a detector for Pepper and Happy…

_Happy. Fuck. If they hurt him I'll--_ Tony started to lift his head, but fell back with a whimper as the pain in his temples intensified. 

"He's awake!" someone hissed nearby.

_And you're just noticing that?_ Well, there wasn't much point in faking it now. Tony opened his eyes and slowly tilted his head toward the sound.

He was in a small, windowless room, possibly a basement, with beige walls and a dingy orange carpet that looked as if it had been laid down in the 70s. There were five people crowded in with him, all dressed in dark clothing, with balaclavas covering their faces. That was a good sign, Tony decided -- it meant they hadn't made up their minds to kill him yet. 

Which didn't mean they hadn't killed anybody else.

"What did you do to Happy?" Tony demanded. "And Marcus?"

Apparently that wasn't the opening his captors had expected. They all turned to look at each other, and even with the balaclavas on, Tony could see their confusion.

"Who?" one of them finally asked. A woman, but not the same one who'd spoken to Tony in the parking lot.

Tony rolled his eyes. "My driver, and the security guard at the gate. What did you do to them?"

"They're fine," a tall, skinny guy with a surprisingly deep voice told him. "We left them unconscious in the parking lot."

Tony's distrust must've shown on his face, because the guy drew himself up -- he was very tall -- and his voice went a little higher. "We're not _murderers_!"

"Just kidnappers, then?" Tony said. "I hate to tell you this, but Stark Industries has an official policy of not paying ransom."

Skinny Guy, who Tony suspected was the leader of the merry band, let out an angry snort at that. The others all made their own vague noises to indicate offense, which Tony thought was pretty rich under the circumstances.

"We don't want your filthy money, Stark!"

Filthy money? What did they think he-- Oh. Tony felt his heart sinking.

"You're Purists."

Skinny Guy tried to square his shoulders but only managed something more like a rhombus.

"We are the Magical Decontamination League!"

_That_ wasn't a good sign at all. Tony had been getting hate mail and the occasional death threat from Purist groups for years; Pepper always dutifully passed them on to the FBI who always dutifully investigated, but nothing had ever come of it. Either the Magical Decontamination League hadn't been behind any of the threats, or the FBI had missed a big one.

They said they weren't murderers. Tony wasn't sure he was willing to bet on that, not until he actually saw Happy and Marcus alive. In the meantime, he was tired of trying to carry on a conversation while lying at his kidnappers' feet like a sack of rocks. Tony gritted his teeth and sat up, which proved to be surprisingly difficult with his hands bound behind his back.

"Okay," he said once he'd managed to arrange himself into something resembling a dignified position, "so what exactly is the point of this exercise? Are you going to preach magical purity at me? If I say I've seen the error of my ways, can we all go home right now?"

"As if you'd listen," one of the women spoke up, sounding disgusted. "You've been ignoring protests for years, we know you won't listen to us."

Tony shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "Okay, so what, then?"

Skinny Guy nodded at the shorter, stockier man standing to his left. The man squatted down to reach into a duffel bag at his feet, and came up with a handheld video camera.

"You will make a recording," Skinny Guy said. "You will instruct your people to melt down that monstrosity you keep in your lab, and fuse the mithril with iron. And then, after my people have made sure that thing is properly destroyed, we will let you go."

"What monstrosity? You mean the aether coil?" Tony tried and failed to contain an incredulous laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."

"That thing has no right to exist!" The second woman hissed. "It's because of abominations like that coil that Queen Titania has sealed her borders."

"The hell it is." A small voice at the back of Tony's mind whispered that he should be more polite to the masked people with guns, but it was a voice Tony was well used to ignoring. "Titania sealed the borders because Johann Shmidt was draining aether from Faerie to fuel his city-killer spells." 

"That's what they want us to think!" Skinny Guy's voice held the absolute conviction of a fanatic. "But we know the truth! And we will do whatever it takes to bring magic back to this world."

"It'll take a lot more than this," Tony told him. "Even if I make that recording for you -- which I won't -- Stark Industries isn't going to destroy its most valuable asset on the say-so of a bunch of half-assed terrorists. And even if they did -- which they won't -- do you really think Titania will reopen the borders after fifty-five years? How would she even know what you've done?"

"She'll know," Skinny Guy said, with the same conviction as before. "And the coil isn't Stark Industries' most valuable asset -- you are. They'll give us what we want to get you back."

Tony had to concede they had a point there. The aether coil made the manufacture of Tony's designs cheaper and easier, but it was the designs themselves that brought in the profits. Without the coil, company profits would go down. Without Tony, there was no company.

Which made it all the more unlikely that these assholes were planning to let him go, not if they were really serious about getting Stark Industries to give up technomancy. Tony wondered when, exactly they planned to kill him. Would they do it right after he made the recording, or wait until they got a response to their demands?

And what were they planning to do about the handful of other technomancers in the world? Stane Industries employed one at their Connecticut plant, Fujikawa Inc. had one in Japan. There were unconfirmed rumors of at least three working in China. Were these idiots planning to go after them all somehow, or did they figure that removing the largest player would end the game?

"Enough stalling," Skinny Guy announced, even though Tony really hadn't stalled at all. "Will you do as we ask?"

Tony glared at him. "No."

He expected a beating after that, or possibly something worse, but his captors were either squeamish or willing to play the long game, because all they did was toss him into a cell that appeared to be a converted walk-in closet and leave him there in the dark. Tony thought it was an insultingly lax method for containing a sorcerer, until he tried to focus on the aether in the room and realized that there wasn't any.

"Fuck!" Tony said, and slammed his feet against the door, which refused to budge. Whoever was responsible for the invisibility spells had probably prepared this cell, too, wiping it clean and setting wards to keep the aether from leaking in through the tiny gap below the door.

He really, really wanted to know which one of his captors was the sorcerer. He wanted to grab them and shake them until they explained why they were wasting all that skill and talent on opposing the century's biggest advance in magic. But he suspected that the answer would frustrate him as much as the question.

"Fuck," Tony said again, then slumped against the wall across from the door and closed his eyes. _Get a grip, Stark._ Swearing at thin air was momentarily satisfying, but not very productive. He needed to think his way out of this mess.

_Okay, think, then._ Fact: he'd been kidnapped by a bunch of fanatical Purists who were making insane demands and probably planning to kill him no matter what. Fact: at least one of the aforementioned fanatical Purists was a competent sorcerer. Tony was fairly certain he could take out the sorcerer in a one-on-one confrontation, but he needed to get his hands free and himself out of his cell before that could happen. Except that to do that, he needed his magic, and there was no aether in the room.

_No, wait. That's not true._ Tony looked down at his torso. The coil in his chest was no longer glowing brightly enough to show through his shirt, which meant it had lost much of its charge; not much of a surprise, considering he'd charged it early that morning. But it couldn't be completely drained, or he'd be dying of heart failure by now. The question was, did it have enough aether left to allow Tony to cast a spell without killing himself?

If the alternative was to sit in the dark and wait while his captors worked up the nerve to torture or kill him, he was willing to risk it.

There were only a few spells he could do without using his hands, and most of them would be of no help here. Still, Tony thought the gate spell had potential. True, it had never worked before. But the main side effect of it not working was a hell of a backlash -- Tony's back still ached from his most recent attempt. If he could redirect that force, he was sure he could use it to blow the door right off its hinges.

Of course that still left the problem of freeing his hands and escaping, but Tony figured he'd blow up that bridge when he got to it.

He focused his mind on drawing a thin strand of aether from the coil. It seeped through his shirt like luminescent fog, so thin and faint that it nearly dissipated before Tony caught it and spun the strand into a wobbly sphere hovering about a foot in front of his face. The effort left him dizzy and panting, with a growing ache in his chest. Tony suspected that if he didn't get out of the aetherless room quickly, he was going to have bigger things to worry about than a bunch of possibly-murderous Purists.

Shaping the sphere into the basic gate spell pattern was easy enough. Putting directional wards around was trickier; Tony kept losing his focus and letting the edges of the spell dissolve into shapeless blobs. The pain in his chest intensified with each try, which only made it harder to concentrate. It took three tries to get the pattern right, and even then he wasn't entirely sure that the backlash would hit in the right direction. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, and activated the spell.

He expected the same result he'd always had before: an invisible crackle of energy followed by a burst of concussive force as the spell failed. What he got instead was a flash of light so bright, it blinded him for nearly a minute. Tony sat there and blinked until his vision cleared and when it did, he was no longer alone.

_Holy shit!_ Tony thought as he stared up at the blond apparition towering above him. _I've summoned a Fae!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Since there were no surviving witnesses to the final confrontation between Steve Rogers and Johann Shmidt, it's unlikely that humanity will ever know exactly what happened. Post-war investigations of the site suggest that Shmidt was channeling aether from Faerie at an unprecedented rate in order to fuel a spell powerful enough to destroy cities from a distance. The most common theory is that Rogers caused Shmidt to lose control of the spell and the resulting explosion killed both men. In any case, the only fact known for sure is that the border between Earth and Faerie was permanently sealed less than a week later._   
**\-- Urich, B. (1987), Captain America's War. New York: Simon and Shuster.**

**Chapter 3**

"What the hell?" said the Fae. In the darkened cell, all Tony could make out of him was a tall silhouette crouched in a fighting stance. Tony got the general impression of long legs, big shoulders, and-- was that a sword?

"Hi," said Tony. The silhouette swiveled toward him.

"Who's there?" The Fae stepped forward, and suddenly there was a swordpoint at Tony's throat, poking uncomfortably just below his Adam's apple. "How did you bring me here?"

"Uhm." Tony scrambled backwards a little, away from the sword and the looming figure holding it. "Would you believe it was an accident?"

"You're one of Red Skull's crew, aren't you?" The Fae growled, then raised his voice to a hoarse shout. "Skull! Come out and fight me, you coward!"

"Shh!" Tony hissed, but it was too late. There were panicked voices outside, then the scrape of a bolt sliding free just before the door swung open. Aether trickled into the room, and Tony gasped with relief as he cast the spell to recharge his chest coil. Here, at least, was one thing that wasn't going to kill him in the next few seconds. The effort of casting the spell made his vision blur for a moment, but he could still see well enough to make out a masked figure in the doorway raising a gun.

"Look out!" Tony yelled, a split second before the shot fired.

He expected the Fae to collapse with a bullet in his back. Instead, there was a loud, high-pitched _ping_ of metal striking metal, followed by a duller impact as the bullet ricocheted into the wall. The Fae didn't even stagger as he reached up behind his left shoulder to heft a round shield that had apparently been strapped to his back the whole time. In one smooth motion, the Fae turned, swung, and slammed the shield into the face of the gunman in the doorway. The man went down in a heap, which made the two others behind him hesitate for a second or two. And that was enough time for the Fae to step through the doorway and throw his shield.

It hit a glancing blow against the head of the nearest Purist, kept going until it hit the far wall and then _bounced_ , flying off at what should've been an impossible angle to strike the other. Then it bounced _again_ \-- which was definitely impossible, human skulls just didn't work that way -- and flew out of sight to one side of the door. There was a thud and a grunt, then an alarmed cry, and then the shield was back in the Fae's hand. 

Tony crept cautiously toward the door and peeked out. There were four Purists on the floor, motionless and presumably unconscious or dead. In the distance, he could hear retreating footsteps as the fifth and last Purist made themselves scarce.

"Holy shit," Tony said.

The Fae, who actually wasn't a Fae at all, sheathed his sword, squatted next to one of the downed Purists and removed his mask.

"They're human," he said in a stunned voice, then abruptly seemed to remember Tony's existence again. " _You're_ human."

"So are you," Tony pointed out.

He was too young to have ever seen a Fae in the flesh, but he'd seen enough old photos and read enough history book descriptions to know the signs. The man in front of him was certainly beautiful enough to be Fae but he had had no pointed ears, no gold-colored eyes, no pale green tint to his skin. This was a human and, crazy as it seemed, Tony knew exactly which human he was.

He'd seen pictures of Captain America, a.k.a. Steve Rogers, even more often than he'd seen pictures of Fae. He'd owned comics and action figures and a toy red, white and blue shield with a star in the center. And now here was the real deal, right there in front of him.

Rogers looked no older in the year 2000 than he had in 1945. He had dark-gold hair and startling blue eyes and the kind of perfect chiseled jaw most Hollywood stars would kill for. He was wearing plate armor made of pale, silvery metal Tony recognized as mithril, with a blue surcoat over it. The surcoat had a white star on the chest, to match the shield. 

He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a fairy tale book, a knight in shining armor come to rescue the princess, so damned heroic that Tony couldn't even work up the proper resentment at being cast as the princess. 

"You're Captain America," Tony said, and immediately felt like an idiot for stating the obvious.

Rogers stared at him with narrowed eyes. "And you are?.."

Well, this conversation was about to get interesting.

"My name is Tony Stark."

Rogers' suspicious stare intensified. "I didn't know Howard had a brother."

"He doesn't. Didn't." Tony sighed. "Look, this is not exactly comfortable. How about you untie my hands and we have a civilized conversation while the police clean up these bozos?"

Rogers looked down at the unconscious Purist sprawled at his feet, then up at Tony, then down again. Tony couldn't blame the man for hesitating, but he figured no one could blame himself for being in a hurry either.

"Come on," he said, "I know this is weird, but may I remind you that out of all the people in this place I'm the only one who hasn't tried to shoot you?"

"You don't have a gun," Rogers said. "And your hands are tied." Still, he got up, hauled Tony to his feet, and tore the zip tie binding Tony's hands as if it was a piece of string. Tony tried not to look too impressed as he rubbed at the red marks at his wrists.

"Thanks."

"You want to thank me?" Rogers glared at him. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

Tony held up his hand. "Police first."

The Purists had taken his wallet and phone when they'd kidnapped him, but a quick search of one of the bodies produced an early-model Fujikawa phone, old enough not to have a magichip in it. The woman who owned it had had the sense to lock it, but a button in the corner of the screen allowed Tony to call 911 without having to try and magically hack the password.

It took a few minutes for Tony to reassure the operator that he wasn't some idiot making a prank call, but she was eventually convinced enough to trace his call and send police to the location. Tony disconnected with a relieved sigh, and turned to find Captain America staring wide-eyed at the phone in his hand.

"That's not a radio," he said.

"No, it's a phone." Tony held it out for inspection. "It's… well, I can't say it's new, not this piece of junk, but I'm pretty sure it's after your time. Speaking of which, how long were you in Faerie?"

It wasn't exactly the most graceful way to segue into the question, and the look on Rogers' face made it obvious that he'd both noticed the clumsiness and suspected the reason behind it. 

"I was there a little over five years," he said, "or at least that's what it felt like to me." His hand was perfectly steady as he took the phone from Tony and examined it, but his voice shook a little. "How long has it been over here?"

Tony wished there was a way to break it gently, but in the end all he could do was spit it out.

"It's been about fifty-five years here. It's June 2000 now."

Rogers looked stunned at that, as well he should, but his stricken expression quickly shifted into something strangely hopeful.

"Wait," he said, "so does that mean that the whole time I've been here, it's only been a few seconds over there?"

"Probably," said Tony.

"It's not too late, then." Rogers' shoulders slumped in visible relief. "If you send me back right now--"

"Wait, what?" Tony blinked. "You want to go back?"

"I have to!" Rogers rubbed one hand over his face. "We were fighting when you pulled me here, there was an ambush… I can't abandon my men. I can't abandon the prince. Whatever you did, you have to undo it!"

"I don't know what I did!" Tony hadn't meant to shout, but the desperation in Rogers' eyes was contagious. "I wasn't lying when I said I brought you by accident. The spell I cast wasn't wasn't meant to transport anyone. It was designed to just open a gate to Faerie, and no such spell has worked since Titania sealed the borders."

"Well, it clearly worked now," Rogers said. "You opened a gate, and I came through somehow. If you open it again, I can go through again, right?"

"I don't think--"

"Why don't you just try?"

Tony had no answer for that. Now that he was out of his warded cell, there was plenty of aether available for spell-casting, and the worst that could happen would be another backlash and a few more bruises for his trouble. 

_No, the worst thing that can happen is you'll fail, and Captain America will be disappointed in you._

Which was ridiculous. Tony had just met the man, he had no reason to worry about his good opinion. And yet, here he was, worrying.

Of course if he didn't try, Rogers would probably be even more disappointed.

"Fine," Tony said abruptly. "Stand back, though, there's likely to be a kaboom."

Part of him hoped that it would work again, that the latest set of changes he'd made to the spell was finally the right set. But as usual, his luck wasn't that good. He visualized the pattern, charged it, released it -- and found himself flying backwards through the air a moment later as the backlash hit again.

_That's going to hurt,_ he thought, remembering the concrete wall behind him.

Only it wasn't concrete he hit, but something nearly as solid and only a little softer.

"Oof," Rogers grunted as Tony slammed into him, and rocked back a little with the impact. His arms came up to circle Tony's waist, and Tony gripped his forearms purely by instinct. They wobbled for a moment, then regained their balance.

"See?" Tony sighed, "I told you it wouldn't work."

Outside, in the distance, he could hear police sirens approaching.

* * * * *

"Let me get this straight," said Detective Knight. "Captain America has been alive all these years, and you pulled him out of Faerie by _accident_?"

"Why does no one believe me when I tell them that?" Tony asked plaintively.

The detective rolled her eyes at him. She was a tall, competent-looking woman who'd showed up at the scene of Tony's kidnapping dressed in a leather jacket over a crisp white blouse and black slacks. Now the jacket was draped over the back of her chair and the blouse was looking a bit rumpled, but the air of competence remained. She had dealt with the unconscious purists with admirable efficiency and then, to Tony's eternal gratitude, made a series of phone calls to determine that both Happy and Marcus were alive and being treated for minor injuries at a hospital near the SI plant.

"You have to admit," Knight said, "it's a pretty unlikely story."

"And yet," said Rogers, "here I am."

"Here," in this case was a dingy beige room at the police station, furnished with a metal table and some surprisingly comfortable leather chairs that Tony suspected had been dragged out of some higher-up's office once word got around that Tony Stark was in the building. Whoever ordered the special treatment, Tony was pretty sure it wasn't Knight, who didn't seem especially impressed either by him or by Rogers. She'd taken their statements, sent Rogers off to be fingerprinted, then left them sitting around for what felt like hours while Captain America's identity was officially confirmed.

"Here you are," she agreed. "And damned if I know what I'm supposed to do about it."

"Why do you need to do anything?" Tony asked, more snappishly than he'd meant to. He'd had a long day and a long night and the crappy police station coffee had done nothing to improve the experience. "He's not a suspect, he's a witness. You have our statements. You know where I live. Is there any reason why we can't just go now?"

"You know the press must be getting wind of this already, right?" Knight said. "Your kidnapping alone is front-page news, but him?" She nodded toward Rogers. "Once word of him gets out, it's going to be a frenzy."

"So?" Tony shrugged. "We can both go to my house. I'm used to dealing with the press, and so is my staff. The paparazzi won't get anything from us."

"Do I get any say in this?" Rogers demanded.

Tony frowned at him. "What, you have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

"Yes," Rogers hissed through clenched teeth. "I told you, I have to--"

"To go back, yes, I know." Tony met Rogers' glare with what he hoped was an equally determined expression. "You'd better stick with me, then, because I'm the only one who can help you with that. I may not know how I brought you here yet, but I bet I can figure it out given enough time, and then I'll know how to do it in the other direction. Nobody else is going to be of use to you in this business."

"Is that true?" Rogers looked to Knight. "There's no one else who can send me back?"

Knight nodded. "Whatever spell Queen Titania used to seal the border, no sorcerer on this side has been able to get through it. People have been trying for decades. Stark bringing you here was the first time I've heard of anyone succeeding. And he's supposed to be top in his field, so." She shrugged. "Yeah, he's probably your best bet."

"Then it's settled," Tony grinned. "The Captain comes home with me."

It wasn't quite so simple, of course. There were more questions, and a great deal of paperwork before Knight informed them they were free to go. With Happy indisposed, Tony called Pepper, who sent one of the company cars to fetch him and Rogers from the station into Manhattan.

Rogers was grim-faced and silent for the first part of the ride, but once they entered the city, his mood seemed to shift, and he leaned forward to look out the windows with visible interest.

"Those aren't werelights," he said after a while.

"Hmm?" Tony leaned in to see what Rogers was looking at. "The streetlights? No, those are electric. With the aether getting depleted, most cities are switching to electricity. It's a hassle to install, but at least we're not going to run out of it anytime soon."

"It was all werelights the last time I was here." Rogers' voice was distant. He closed his eyed for a moment. "Have you ever read the story about the monkey's paw?"

Tony blinked at the sudden change of subject. "No, but I know the basic concept."

"I've spent five years wishing I could go home." Rogers gave a chilly, thin-lipped smile. "And now I'm here, only it's not home anymore and I can't stay."

"I'm sorry," Tony said helplessly.

Rogers shook his head. "It's not your fault. Like you said, it was an accident. You had no way of knowing what was going on with me."

He seemed perfectly sincere about it, and yet the words made Tony feel more guilty instead of less.

"I'll fix it," he promised impulsively. "Whatever It takes to set things right for you, I'll do it."

Rogers' smile grew a little warmer. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Tony. You're staying at my house, I think you can call me Tony."

"Only if you call me Steve, then."

"Deal"

By the time they reached Fifth Avenue, Tony was so tired he could barely see straight. He barely managed not to yawn into his butler's face as Jarvis greeted them at the door.

"Jarvis, this is Captain Steve Rogers, he'll be staying a while. Get him to a guest room, will you?"

"Yes, sir." If Jarvis was in anyway flustered by finding a supposedly-dead World War Two hero dressed in literal shining armor on his doorstep, or if he even realized who Captain Steve Rogers was, he gave no sign of it. "I believe the Sunflower Room should do nicely."

"Great." Tony stifled another yawn and clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Go get some rest. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

* * * * *

In the course of a misspent life, Tony had seen a great many beautiful people in his breakfast room in the morning. Supermodels. Movie stars. Minor royalty. None of them could hold a candle to Captain America, rumpled and sleepy in borrowed blue silk pajamas stretched tightly across his shoulders. Tony paused in the doorway to enjoy the view for a few seconds before clearing his throat to announce himself.

"Mr. Sta-- Tony." Steve looked up from the plate of bacon and eggs he'd been listlessly poking at. "Good morning."

"G'morning." Tony shuffled over to the espresso machine and made himself a cup before joining Steve at the table. "I see Jarvis got you settled properly."

"He did," Steve said. "And he sent somebody named Miss Potts to buy me some clothes, which I guess I should thank you for since I certainly can't pay you back."

"If you knew my father," Tony said, "then you know paying me back is not an issue."

Steve went still for a moment, the same way he had back at the police station, when Tony had told him that Howard was dead. Then he shook his head.

"I knew Howard," he said, "and he was like that too, always acting like it didn't count when he was kind or generous to somebody because he could afford it. But there's plenty of rich fellas around who'd never lift a finger to help anybody. So thank you."

That was entirely too much sincerity for Tony to handle so early in the morning. He took a gulp of his coffee and rapidly changed the subject.

"So, I've been thinking about ways to get you back into Faerie, and I have a few ideas. The spell I used to bring you here has never worked when I used it before, so I figure it had to be something on your side that affected it this time. Can you tell me exactly what was going on with you before you showed up here?"

"There was an ambush." Steve put his fork down and stared into the distance, frowning. "I'm a captain in Titania's personal guard. My men and I were escorting Prince Tybalt -- that's Titania's son -- to the coast, for a treaty negotiation with the merfolk. But we were ambushed by Shmidt and his cohort."

"Shmidt." Tony frowned at the familiar name. "As in Johann Shmidt, the Red Skull? I thought you'd killed him."

"I wish." Steve scowled. "He fell into Faerie with me. Human sorcerers gain power in Faerie, and Shmidt was pretty damn powerful to begin with. Titania couldn't cast him out, all she could do was seal the borders so that no one else like him could ever follow. But he's gathered his own army -- dark Fae mostly, and the occasional traitor from Titania's court -- and has been making war on Titania for nearly five years now."

"Damn," said Tony, "they're going have to rewrite all the history books." One of World War Two's worst criminals, still alive and presumably committing more war crimes in Faerie… No wonder Steve was so determined to go back. The grim look on his face suggested that Titania's war wasn't going very well.

"Okay, so Shmidt ambushed you. What happened then?"

"He cast one of his killing spells on me, and I didn't quite dodge fast enough. There was a flash of light and I thought, well, that's it. But then the next thing I knew, I was in that cell with you."

"Hmm." Tony drummed his fingers on the table as he tried to visualize the scene. If his spell hit at the same time as Shmidt's… "Shmidt's killing spell -- have you ever seen it before?"

"More times than I ever wanted to." Steve winced. "It… incinerates the target."

That was not a mental image Tony wanted at all, but he had to get the details right. "Is it like a fireball that he throws, or a beam shooting from his hand?"

"Neither." Steve shook his head. "There's just a sort of flare, and the target turns to ash."

"Spontaneous combustion, then." Tony couldn't think of a spell that did that. "Does he gesture when he casts that spell? Can you remember what it looks like?"

"He does. It's something like this." Steve stared off into distance for a few moments, then sketched a pattern in the air with one hand. 

Tony frowned. "Do that again."

Steve repeated the pattern, exactly the same as the first time. Which made no sense at all.

"That's not a combustion spell." Tony got up and paced in front of the breakfast table, trying to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. Did spells work differently on Faerie than they did on Earth? Could the same pattern have entirely different effects in different realms? Because what Steve had just demonstrated for him, far to accurately to be a mistake, was an old-school transition spell, not used in decades because it wouldn't -- "Oh." Tony stumbled to a stop. "Okay, I get it."

"I don't," Steve said. "Actually, I'm not even sure what we're trying to get."

"Shmidt's spell," Tony explained. "It's a transition spell. It's meant to transport an object -- or a person -- between Earth and Faerie. Except no one uses it anymore, because you can't transport through the border barrier. If you try, whatever you're transporting--"

"Gets incinerated," Steve finished.

"Exactly." Tony started pacing again. "I've always figured it was kind of like slamming something into an unbreakable wall at infinite speed. All the kinetic energy has to go somewhere, right? So the barrier absorbs it emits it back as heat."

"And this helps us because…" Steve trailed of expectantly.

"Don't you get it? I cast a spell to try and open a gap in the border at the same time as Shmidt cast a spell to bring you across it. It's like I was pulling at a stuck door, and he came and pushed from the other side."

Understanding dawned on Steve's face. "And between the two of you, you got it open."

"Not permanently, but long enough for you to fall through. Damn." Tony laughed and ran his hands through his hair. "What do you think the odds are on a coincidence like that?"

"More to the point," Steve said, "what are the odds of it happening again?"

"Yeah, that's the rub, isn't it?" Tony felt his enthusiasm deflate a little. The chain of events that brought Steve to Earth also came within a split second of getting him killed. Attempting to duplicate it, eve if they could, would be far too dangerous. Still, it did open up some possibilities…

"So if Titania put you in her guard and let you escort her kid around, that means she likes you, right?"

"Uhm." Steve looked a bit startled by the sudden change of subject, but rolled with it. "She thinks I'm trustworthy and good at what I do, if that's what you mean."

"And right now, she probably thinks you're dead, right?"

"Probably"

"And if she knew you're not, do you figure she'd want you back?"

"I suppose." Steve grimaced. "Though whether it's because she likes me or because she's furious at me for failing at my job is an open question."

"Well," Tony said, "if we can get you back there you can explain to her how it was totally my fault."

Steve frowned. "That sounds like a pretty big if."

"Maybe not." Tony pulled up a chair and straddled it. "Look, all this time I've been trying to open a gate to Faerie and when it didn't work, I assumed I wasn't affecting the border barrier at all. But that's obviously not true, or you'd be dead right now. I was weakening the barrier, just not enough to get a physical object through it. But what if I can weaken it enough to get a message across?"

Steve sat up straighter, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You can let Titania know I'm alive."

"And she can open the border and bring us across."

"Us?" Steve frowned. "I'm not sure if--"

"Hey." Tony spread his hands. "This is the first Earth-Faerie contact since the war. You really think I'm going to miss it?"

"It may not be up to you," Steve pointed out.

Tony shrugged. "I guess we'll find out. But first, I need to figure out the right spell to get our message acro-- No scratch that, first we need to get dressed. If I'm going to meet the Queen of Faerie, I'd rather not do it in my pajamas."


	4. Chapter 4

_And see not ye that bonnie road,_  
Which winds about the fernie brae?   
That is the road to fair Elfland,   
Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae   
**\--"Thomas the Rhymer", traditional**

**Chapter 4**

Despite his newfound optimism, it took Tony three days to come up with a new spell that worked. He spent all his waking hours in his study, spinning increasingly complex patterns from the aether and growing increasingly frustrated. The most he could say for his attempts is that they no longer knocked him across the room every time they failed. 

It didn't help that Steve kept wandering in every few hours to check on his progress. Tony had given him a laptop in the hope that the internet would keep him occupied, but all it had done was give him a handy pretext for interrupting. He'd come in with a question about pop culture or politics or recent history, listen politely to Tony's explanation, then end the conversation with some variation of "any luck yet?" He tried valiantly not to look disappointed at every "no", but Tony could see the hope slowly draining out of him.

"Do you really hate it here so much?" Tony blurted out halfway through the second day.

Steve looked startled. "What? Of course n--"

"I know the world has changed a lot in fifty years, but it hasn't completely gone to shit, has it?" Tony gestured toward the window with its sunlit view of Central Park. "I kind of like the future, myself. Maybe I'm not the best person to be introducing you to it, but--"

"It's not the future that's the problem," Steve said. "And it's definitely not you. If you brought me to Earth under any other circumstances, I'd be nothing but grateful. But I have a duty both to Titania and to Tybalt. I can't just let it go."

None of which made Tony feel any better when his next three spells produced nothing more than some pretty bursts of colored lights.

By the end of the third day the colored lights were beginning to coalesce into something useful, enough so that Tony felt comfortable responding to Steve's "Any luck?" with "Get ready, we're doing a trial run."

Steve's idea of getting ready was to change back into his Faerie armor, complete with surcoat, sword and shield.

"Are you sure you need all this?" Tony asked. "We're only sending a message, you know."

Steve gave him a thin smile. "I like to be prepared."

" All right then, eagle scout." Tony grinned. "Stand right there and hold your shield about this high."

"What for?" Steve asked even as he placed himself at the spot Tony indicated.

"I'm going to use your shield as the focus for the spell," Tony told him. "With a little luck, it'll project the shield's image in the sky above Faerie. With a little more luck, Titania will know what it means. After that, it's up to her. Let's just hope she sees it before Shmidt does."

"Even if she doesn't," Steve said, "there's nothing Shmidt can do about it. And I don't care if he knows I'm alive. He'll find out soon enough when I face him again."

Steve planted his feet shoulder-width apart and held the shield in front of his chest. It was a fine, heroic pose, Tony thought, and he let himself admire it for a few seconds before gathering his thoughts and spinning his spell around the shield like a fine, glowing spiderweb.

"Just hold it right there… a little longer just to be safe… Okay, you can relax now."

"Is it working?" Steve asked. Tony shrugged.

"Hard to say. The fact that we're not seeing a great big light show is a good sign -- hopefully that means the light show is happening on the other side of the border. Assuming it's happening at all. Can't really tell from here."

"Oh." Steve's shoulders sagged a little. "So we just wait, then?"

"Pretty much," Tony said apologetically. "If nothing else, we have to make allowances for time passing so much faster here than over there. Anyway, that's how magic works -- sometimes it's 'bam, you're dead,' other times you sit and twiddle your thumbs waiting for something to happen."

"I suppose so." Steve had his "trying not to look disappointed" face on again. "It's just that I've mostly been seeing the 'bam, you're dead' variety all these years."

"You've been fighting a war all these years," Tony pointed out.

"I know." Steve gave him a crooked smile. "I don't mean to be impatient, but…"

"But you are."

"But I am. People tell me it's one of my main character flaws."

"Captain America has character flaws? And here I thought the serum made you perfect."

"Don't you start with that nonsense." Steve rolled his eyes. "Being big and strong doesn't make a man perfect."

"You're a lot more than that," Tony said. 

Steve somehow managed to look stubborn and determined even while blushing.

"I try to be," he said, "but what kind of person I am has nothing to do with the serum. And I'm sure as hell not perfect."

"Well." Tony shook his head. "You're a lot closer to it than anyone else I've ever met."

Steve smiled. "Even yourself?"

"Mys--" Tony burst out laughing. "You're kidding, right? I'm not even in the ballpark."

"If you wanted me to believe that," Steve said, "you shouldn't have given me an internet."

"You looked me up?!" Tony stared at him, aghast, his mind filled with visions of tabloid headlines and Purist propaganda. But Steve's answering look was not at all judgmental.

"I'm living in your house and relying on your kindness while you work day and night to help me, and yet I barely know anything about you. Of course I looked you up. Are you really the most powerful technomancer of your age? And, uhm, what exactly is a technomancer? I've been getting a lot of conflicting information on that."

Tony was halfway through a detailed explanation of magic-technology interactions when the world went white.

* * * * *

Tony's first reaction was _shit, did something explode? I wasn't even working!_ But the blinding flash wasn't accompanied by any of the other unpleasant sensations that usually hit when a spell went awry. Instead, the white light slowly faded until Tony's eyes stopped watering and he could see clearly again. His study looked much the same as before, no damage to his father's antique desk or to the oak bookshelves lining the walls. But suspended a foot above the rug in front of the desk was an oval swirl of golden light, tall enough to nearly touch the ceiling.

"Whoa." Tony came around the desk to stand in front of the oval. If he focused, he could see the aether flowing from it like a river, spreading out to fill the entire room until Tony could feel it even without looking. It was a heady sensation, like breathing air with too much oxygen in it. "Does this look like a portal to you? Because it looks like a portal to me."

"Titania must've gotten your message," Steve said. He took a step toward the portal, but Tony gripped his arm and pulled him back.

"Wait. Are you sure this is Titania's? Maybe it's a trap."

"It's not," Steve said with far more confidence than Tony considered warranted. "Titania is the only one in Faerie   
who can affect the border barrier. She's opened the door for us." He shook off Tony's grip and walked straight into the portal. It rippled as he stepped through it, then promptly smoothed out again.

"What was that about your main character flaw?" Tony muttered. Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. And if the portal was Titania's, she couldn't be counted on to keep it open forever. Tony sighed, crossed his fingers, and stepped through.

Despite Steve's assurance, he half expected to find himself in Red Skull's dungeon on the other side. Instead he stepped through into a room so grand that even Tony, born and raised in a Fifth Avenue mansion, found himself feeling small and grubby, painfully aware that he was wearing only jeans and a faded button-down over an ancient Metallica t-shirt.

The vaulted ceiling rose cathedral-high, supported by impossibly slender columns of pale sand-colored stone. One wall had a row of stained-glass windows in shades of green and gold, the wall opposite was hung with embroidered tapestries. And at the far end of the room, seated on a high-backed wooden throne that seemed to grow straight out of the floor, flanked by a dozen knights in matching blue surcoats, was the Queen of Faerie.

She was slender and extremely tall; it was hard to judge when she was sitting down, but Tony thought she had to be well over six feet. Her hair was a pale ash blond and her skin was white with the slightest tint of green to it, highlighted by a dark green gown embroidered with gold thread and amber beads. Instead of a crown, she wore a gold headdress that masked the upper half of her face, with a pair of huge gilded antlers affixed to the forehead. It should've looked ridiculous, yet Tony found it more impressive than any crown or tiara he'd seen in pictures of human royalty.

Steve was just ahead of him, striding toward the throne with a determined set to his shoulders. He was moving fast enough that Tony had to jog to catch up. They reached the end of the room at the same time, and Tony was just starting to wonder about proper royalty-greeting etiquette when Steve said "Your Majesty" and sank to one knee. He managed to do it remarkably gracefully, with his back ramrod-straight and his balance perfect, looking not in the least bit subservient. Tony tried to emulate him, but wobbled at the last moment and had to steady himself with one hand on the floor.

"Captain," Titania said in a cool voice. "This is a strange turn of events. We had begun to mourn your death in our son's defense, and now We find you alive and in league with a human sorcerer. We hope you have a fine tale to justify yourself with."

"My lady." Steve cast a quick sideways glance at Tony before meeting Titania's eyes again. "Allow me to present the sorcerer Tony Stark. He saved my life through a lucky coincidence, and has worked had to help me return to your service. I hope you will grant him your favor."

Titania's eyes narrowed behind her mask, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop by a few degrees. "You know full well," she said, "that We do not favor human sorcerers."

"My lady," Steve said fervently, "I promise you, Tony is nothing at all like the Red Skull."

"Damn right I'm not!" Tony burst out, then cringed a little when Steve and Titania both turned to glare at him. _Focus, Stark!_ Years of his mother's childhood deportment lessons began to come back as Tony adjusted his posture and tried to match his speech to the cadences Titania and Steve had used. "I apologize for the outburst, my lady. But Red Skull is one of Earth's most hated war criminals. It…" _It pisses me off._ "It pains me that you, or anyone, would ever think to compare me to him."

"It pains _us,_ " Titania said in a tight voice, "to have lost a squad of brave and loyal men while their captain disappeared mid-battle. It pains us to have our son taken hostage. It pains us to have our kingdom and the safety of our people endangered by Red Skulls demands. Now We are given to understand that all of these things have been caused in part by your actions. One human sorcerer has given another the means to harm us -- to harm all of Faerie. Do you wonder that We are displeased?"

"It was an accident," Tony protested, but the words sounded weak and unconvincing to his own ears. He tried to think of a better argument, but Steve spoke up first.

"Prince Tybalt is alive, then?"

Titiania nodded, but her face remained stern. "Red Skull has demanded our abdication in exchange for his release. He will arrive tomorrow with his army, expecting to occupy the palace once We remove the wards. He claims that once he's in possession, he will let Tybalt go free."

"He's lying," Steve said immediately. Titania gave him a steady glare.

"It makes no difference. Even if he were telling the truth, We couldn't comply with his demands. The welfare of Faerie cannot be sacrificed for the sake of one person, no matter how dear to us. We will meet Red Skull's army with our own, as We always have, and We will mourn our son when the time comes."

"Wait," Tony broke in before Steve could answer. "You're seriously just writing the kid off? He's your son, aren't going to try to rescue him?"

"Tony…" Steve muttered under his breath.

Titania looked as if every dark thought she'd ever had about human sorcerers has just been confirmed.

"Red Skull will be here in less than a day," she said, "there is no time to plan a rescue."

"There is plenty of time!" Tony was half-expecting to be struck down where he stood, but he couldn't just let it go, not when Titania had a point about the whole mess being at least partly his fault. "A day in Faerie is about eleven days on Earth. Now, I'm no military strategist but I'm a hell of a sorcerer, and I'm betting Steve here knows all there is to know about Red Skull's tactics. Send us back, and we'll come up with a plan with time to spare."

The light glinted off the antlers on Titania's headdress as she dipped her head. "You expect us to trust you?"

"My lady," Steve said, "I will vouch for him with my life."

There was a long, tense silence as Titania looked from Steve to Tony and back again.

"Very well," she said finally, "We will take you at your word."


	5. Chapter 5

_Contrary to popular belief, the Fae are not sorcerers. Aether is their natural element, the way that air is the natural element of humans, but they are not born with the ability to manipulate it the way human sorcerers are born. Instead, each Fae is born with a single, randomly determined talent (such as shapeshifting or levitation) that they can use without having to perform a spell. Prewar reports indicate that Queen Titania's talent allows her to create inpenetrable magical barriers, such as the one that currently separates Earth from Faerie._   
**\-- Strange, S. (1997). Practical Differences Between Fae and Human Magic. Journal of Magical Research, 250, 1252-1279.**

**Chapter 5**

Titania's palace, Tony discovered, stood in the center of Faerie's capital city, which had the surprisingly rustic name of Yarrowood. Based on what he'd seen of the palace, Tony had expected a medieval-style walled city, but while many of the buildings looked medieval enough, the wall was entirely absent. Instead, the city was protected by a magical barrier, similar to the one that kept Faerie separate from Earth. Tony could see it if he tried, a silvery dome over the entire city, dense enough to be seen even against the background aether. From his vantage point on the roo of the palace's highest tower, he could almost touch it if he stood on his toes and reached up.

Just outside the barrier, Red Skull's army was camped out in a sea of tents and campfires. It looked like an ordinary enough camp, until Tony held up a pair of binoculars and watched several of Fae with spidery limbs and with mottled grey skin scurry across his field of vision. Behind them, a group of humanoid cats were tending a pot over a fire, and a squad of mostly-human-looking Fae were doing sword drills. All the Fae, even the spidery ones, were wearing black surcoats with the Iron Cross embroidered in silver.

"Damn." Tony lowered the binoculars and glanced over at Steve, who was watching the same scene with a grim expression. They'd come back to Faerie earlier that morning to find the city besieged and Red Skull demanding Titania's abdication by sundown. "How did Shmidt get this kind of following, anyhow? Does Titania have that many enemies?"

"Any powerful ruler has enemies," Steve said. "And from what I understand, the Dark Fae have some kind of quarrel with Titania's family going back to her great-great-grandfather. It's just that they never had the power to do anything about it until Red Skull showed up and brought the power with him."

"Dynastic politics. Wonderful." Tony rolled his eyes. "So what you're saying is, even if we rescue Tybalt and get Shmidt out of the way, we still won't have really solved anything."

"We'll have solved the immediate problem," Steve said. "Let's focus on that."

"Right." Tony raised his binoculars again, then lowered them again. He was aware that he was fidgeting, but couldn't seem to stop. "So you're absolutely sure Shmidt will have Tybalt with him? He won't have stashed him someplace safe before coming here?"

If Steve noticed Tony's fidgeting he politely didn't mention it, just as he politely didn't mention that Tony had asked him the same question five times in one morning.

"Shmidt wouldn't leave a valuable hostage with any of his underlings -- there's nobody he trusts that much. Besides, he's going to kill Tybalt no matter what, and he'll want to do it where Titania can see it happen. That's how he thinks, that's the kind of man he is."

"Great," Tony muttered, "I can't wait to meet him."

"Tony." Steve reached out and rested his hand on Tony's shoulder. "It's going to be okay. You've done great so far."

Tony shook his head. "I haven't done anything yet. And this is the first time I've ever had people's lives depending on me, and I don't… I'm not a hero like you."

"You don't know that," Steve said. "No one knows if they're a hero until there comes a time when they have to find out. And I don't pretend to know the future, but from what I've seen of you so far? I'm not worried."

"I'm glad one of us isn't," Tony sighed. "Come on, let's suit up and get this over with."

Steve was already "suited up," but he accompanied Tony downstairs and cheerfully played the squire as Tony struggled into his own new armor, a hodgepodge of plate and chain mail hastily spell-crafted back in New York from the Stark Industries' aether coil. If nothing else came of this, Tony thought wryly, at least the Purists were going to be happy.

"How do I look?"

Steve looked him over slowly from head to toe. "Like a very short Fae in very strange armor."

"Fair enough." Tony shrugged, which proved to unexpectedly difficult with his shoulders covered by plate. "As long as Shmidt doesn't take one look at me and think hey, there's another human sorcerer in there."

"Not if you keep your faceplate down," Steve said confidently. "Shmidt know better than anyone how Titania feels about human sorcerers; he'd never suspect her of working with one."

"Let's hope not," Tony said. "Sad as it is, right now I'm the ace in the hole."

* * * * *

They rode from the city accompanied by a squad of six Fae soldiers, hand-picked by Steve for their varied height and build in the hope that their presence would keep Tony from looking too conspicuous. Tony would've preferred to have no accompaniment at all -- six extra soldiers would make no difference against an army and only served to put additional lives in danger -- but Steve had insisted that too small a party would look suspicious. Since they'd decided early on that Steve would handle the tactics while Tony handled the magic, Tony felt he was in no position to argue.

He spent most of the ride out focused on trying not to fall off his horse, which was snow-white and gorgeous and at least a foot taller than any Earth horse he'd ever ridden. Tony had grown up on tales of King Arthur and his knights, but none of those tales had bothered to mention how much effort it took to stay balanced in the saddle while wearing armor. It would be a fine joke on everyone, Tony thought, if he went and ruined the whole enterprise by breaking his neck before they reached Red Skull's camp. Fortunately, the horse seemed to adjust to his flailing with a long-suffering air, so that by the time their party reached the clearing in front of Shmidt's tent, Tony thought he looked at least as competent as the other riders around him.

Shmidt kept them waiting for several minutes after they arrived and dismounted. Steve endured the wait calmly, so Tony tried to do the same, but he couldn't help but squirm in his saddle a little by the time Shmidt came out of his tent. The Red Skull looked exactly like his wartime photos, and exactly like his name, yet it was still a shock to see the grinning scarlet death's head above the silver-trimmed black collar of his cape. Tony was grateful for his faceplate, and not just because it hid his obvious Earth origins from sight.

"Captain Rogers." Shmidt's voice had an unpleasant hiss to it. Tony wondered how he could speak at all, with no lips to help shape the sounds. "I don't know how you survived our last encounter, but if you're not here to announce the green bitch's abdication, I guarantee you won't survive this one."

Steve kept his own voice level, but Tony could see the anger in the stiff set of his shoulders and the way his hands tightened on the reins. "Queen Titania wants to know that her son is safe before she gives you an answer."

"But of course." Shmidt gave a small, mocking bow, then loudly clapped his hands. There was a brief commotion in tent behind him before a pair of Dark Fae with skin like tree bark and hair like grass came out dragging Prince Tybalt between them.

Tybalt had the same ashen hair and pale green skin as his mother. He looked, to Tony's human eyes, like a kid, sixteen or seventeen at most, definitely too young to be going out on diplomatic missions. Then again, he had no idea how such things worked for Fae, or even how fast they aged. The prince's wrists and ankles were shackled, and his face had a few green blotches; it took Tony a moment to recognize them as bruises.

Steve took a step forward. The other Fae soldiers stayed put, so Tony did too, though he did edge sideways a bit to get a clear line of sight to Tybalt. No one seemed to be paying much attention to Tony; he hoped it would stay that way for a while as he focused and began to prepare his spell.

In some ways, magic was more difficult in Faerie than it had been back on Earth. The aether in the air was so thick that shaping a pattern in it felt like trying to draw on the surface of the ocean, and doing it without using his hands gave Tony an instant headache. On the other hand, the spell he'd practiced so painstakingly in New York felt ten times more powerful now, while the glow of the ambient aether rendered the pattern practically invisible to anyone who didn't know to look for it. Tony considered it a valid trade-off. 

He spun a fine, complex web of aether around Tybalt while Steve, all stiff and formal, recited Titania's answer to Red Skull's ultimatum. Tony was too preoccupied to pay much attention, but he'd heard the speech several times while Steve rehearsed it, and he knew that words like "craven coward" and "army of traitors" featured prominently. The rehearsing paid off -- Steve finished talking less than five seconds after Tony finished the spell. _Score one for teamwork._

There was a long, tense silence after Steve finished speaking. Shmidt's bony face had no capacity to show expression, but he still managed to project an impressive amount of rage.

"Very well," he growled. "If your bitch of a queen values her throne over her brat, she can live with losing both." He turned, and swept out one hand in the starting gesture of the transition spell he'd used to ambush Steve.

_Here goes nothing,_ Tony thought, and closed his eyes.

In retrospect, he probably should've come up with some extra eye protection for the armor. The flash blinded him even through his closed lids. For a few seconds, all he saw was white, while his eyes watered and his headache intensified. Around him, the cries of panicked people mingled with the screams of terrified horses. Something -- Tony suspected it was his own horse -- slammed into his side and sent him sprawling. He rolled over, scrambled to his feet, forced himself to open his eyes and blink until he could see again.

The army camp was a roiling mess of blinded Fae and horses stampeding over each other. The only ones who seemed relatively unaffected were Steve and Shmidt, who had their swords out and were circling each other warily. Tony left them to it and ran over to Tybalt, who was sitting on the ground with his hands pressed against his eyes. He jolted and tried to struggle when Tony grabbed his arm, but his movements were weak and sluggish. Tony suspected that the weakness had something to do with his shackles, which were etched with unfamiliar spell patterns. Tony mentally filed them away for later study, and pulled the prince to his feet.

"Settle down, kid. I'm going to take you home to mommy."

Tybalt went still. "Who are you?"

"The cavalry." Tony wrapped one mithril-clad arm around Tybalt's waist, channeled a strand of aether into the power pack on his back, and let out a triumphant whoop as the armor wobbled for a moment and then began to rise into the air.

The flight back to the city took less than a minute. The barrier opened as Tony approached it, then closed again behind him. He touched down rather ungracefully in the palace courtyard, let Tybalt drop to the ground, and waited just long enough to see Titania running in their direction before he took off again. The Dark Fae in Shmidt's camp would be regaining their eyesight any moment now, and Tony had to get Steve and the others out of there before they were overrun.

Steve and Shmidt were still fighting when Tony returned to the camp. He realized that they were at an impasse -- as long as they were close enough to each other to cross swords, Shmidt had no time to cast a spell and Steve had no room to throw his shield. Meanwhile, the Dark Fae were starting to close in. The Yarrowood riders were beating them back for now, but Tony could see they wouldn't last long as the enemy recovered in greater numbers. One group was already getting uncomfortably close. Tony shaped some aether into a fireball and tossed it down into their midst. That provided a handy distraction, as the Dark Fae proved more interested in saving their own skins than their human leader's.

Tony flew in circles, throwing more fireballs as he went. His flight path was wobbly and his aim was erratic, but that was okay; he was going for chaos rather than accuracy. For a few minutes, chaos seemed to be enough. Then one of the spidery creatures Tony had noticed earlier broke away from the crowd and threw itself, shrieking, at Steve's back, pulling him down and making him drop his sword.

"No!" Tony yelled. Steve and the spider-thing hit the ground in a heap and rolled, pummeling each other. Shmidt stepped back to give himself room and raised one hand to cast a spell. Tony threw a fireball at him and missed, but the burst of flame at his feet made Shmidt stagger backwards and lose whatever spell he was attempting. Those few extra seconds proved to be all the time Steve needed to wrestle free and bring his shield down onto the spider-thing's face. It flailed wildly for a second, then went still.

Tony readied another fireball but Steve was faster. The shield flew in a low, graceful arc to slam into Shmidt's gut and send him sprawling. He tried to get up, but Steve leaped on top of him and swung his fist once, twice, three times. After the third solid blow to his temple, Shmidt didn't move again.

After that, it was a matter of making an orderly retreat. Tony stayed in the air, keeping the Dark Fae at bay while the Yarrowood riders recaptured and calmed their horses and draped Shmidt's unconscious body over the saddle of Tony's mount. The Dark Fae, suddenly leaderless and facing an unknown new sorcerer, seemed in hurry to engage. 

"Cover us!" Steve called out, and Tony kept the way clear until the entire party was behind the barrier again.

* * * * *  
"Well," said Steve, "I'm still not exactly sure what you did, but I'm glad you did it."

"It actually wasn't that big a deal," Tony said. "We knew that Shmidt's spell worked by converting excess kinetic energy into heat. I just converted it into light instead." Which actually was kind of a big deal, and Tony's mind was already teeming with potential industrial applications, but now was not the time to get into that.

Steve's smile suggested that he knew false modesty when he saw it, but all he said was, "Big deal or not, Tybalt and Titania are very grateful."

"How grateful?" Tony glanced toward the door of their waiting room. On the other side was the throne room, where Tony and Steve were about to have a formal audience with the Queen. The last time he'd spoken with Titania, Tony hadn't had much time to think about it in advance. Now he'd had nearly a full day, and the thought of playing diplomat was making him nervous. "Do you think she'll be grateful enough to open the borders?"

"I don't know," Steve said. "Maybe not right away. But she might like your idea of a joint trial to hold Shmidt responsible for his crimes both here and on Earth. And if the trial goes well, who knows what may happen?"

"What about you?" Tony asked. "What do you want to do? And where do you want to do it?"

"I… don't know." Steve looked so genuinely lost at the question that Tony had to resist the impulse to reach out and hug him. "If the border opens and Red Skull is out of the picture… I suppose there's nothing to keep me from coming back to Earth. But everything there is so strange now."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Stranger than Faerie?"

"Well, no." Steve smiled wryly. "But when I first came to Faerie, _everything_ was strange. On Earth there's this mix of the strange and the familiar -- in some ways that's harder to adjust to."

"Oh, come on," Tony said, "if you can adjust to running around in armor and fighting with a sword, you can adjust to electric lights and the internet."

"I suppose." Steve looked hopeful and uncertain at the same time.

"And," Tony added impulsively, "you'll always have a home in New York. Or Palm Beach if you prefer. Or Paris. Or Tuscany. I have a lot of homes, you can take your pick."

Steve's smile grew warmer. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Or DC," Tony went on, warming to his idea. "Faerie used to have embassies on Earth before the war, maybe Titania will want to have them again. You could be an ambassador. That's a good job for a war hero, right?"

"Let's not rush things," Steve said. "We have to persuade Titania to open the border first."

There were footsteps on the other side of the door, suggesting that their audience was about to start. Tony took a deep breath and clapped Steve on the shoulder.

"Come on," he said, "let's bring the magic back."


End file.
